


Uninvited & Unannounced

by FallenInTheWetTypeWater



Category: NCIS, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Character Death, Crime Scenes, Crossover, M/M, Multi, Other, ended up a lot darker than intended, last few chapters are rather dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenInTheWetTypeWater/pseuds/FallenInTheWetTypeWater
Summary: "You can't run, Kuryakin. I can see you, I can hear you but I'm not coming to get you. Not personally anyway. THRUSH is back and this time there is no UNCLE to stop me!"Illya Kuryakin - Missing In Action. But is he closer to home than they realize? Throw in a live amnesiac in the morgue draw, the FBI, or rather one unwilling FBI agent and you have a recipe for disaster.Brought over from FF.net. Originally Published: 05-25-09, Updated: 10-13-09
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Tobias Fornell/Jethro Gibbs, Tobias Fornell/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. Long Night, Short Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place within the second season of CBS Paramount NCIS between the events of episode 21 Hometown Hero and episode 22 SWAK.

The Marine guard traipsed out of the lift into the corridor, wincing slightly as the doors closed with a louder crunch than anticipated. He could almost feel his own apprehension in the recirculated air. It was his first night duty. His colleagues' reassuring voices ran through his head. _Don't worry; nothing ever happens on your first night duty._ Over the years he had come to learn that at NCIS Washington, generalisations were often false. He swung his torch around in the darkness and tried to keep his imagination from wandering. Already he was having second thoughts about changing shifts permanently. _Maybe I should stick to my day job._ Cliché but unfortunately true.

He was fearful of every shadow and nearly drew his Sig on an unfortunate cockroach which was understandable really; everything looked very different at night and he had always avoided this level as much as possible anyway. After the terrorist episode, security had been beefed up to the max, particularly around these lower levels and full lighting without good reason was a big no-no.

'Didn't seem to do much good on Air Force One,' he muttered grimly. '"Confidential". Hah!' His voice echoed harshly off the walls making him jump sharply and further stretching his already taut nerves.

The stories were almost always embellished, quite often to extremes but rest assured that every Marine, Law Enforcement Officer, technician and mouse within a five mile radius on base had heard the story of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs saving the President of the United States single handed with a bit of "good ol' fashioned sharp shootin'." Not to mention hijacking Air Force One by locking out the local county coroner, the Secret Service, Senior FBI Special Agent Fornell and his men.

Ooh Rah!

A few minor details may have been changed or left out entirely but no one really cares as long as each time it is retold, it is well out of earshot of the infamous Marine turned Field Agent. Especially if he is carrying more than one cup of coffee.

Laughing nervously to himself he continued through the morgue to the other side of the level.

He was six feet from the lift on his return journey when an audible thud echoed out from autopsy. With his heart running its third marathon for the night, the guard turned, flashing his torch through the clear doors.

_Ding_

Behind him, the lift juddered to a halt, projecting the last few strands of its occupants' conversation into the otherwise now silent corridor.

'– really must have a talk with Jethro. I am getting rather tired of being called out in the early hours of the morning to find there's no body to examine and they just wanted a chat over minor details of some report.'

'Of course, Doctor.'

'I don't see why they couldn't have waited a few more hours until morning.'

Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard and his assistant, Jimmy Palmer stepped out over the threshold of the lift, the latter yawning slightly. Whether this was due to the lateness of the hour or his superior's conversation was anyone's guess. Well, nearly anyone. Those who knew the resident Medical Examiner wouldn't have to; they knew.

'Good evening Jeffrey,' continued Ducky as he unlocked the autopsy doors, switching on the lights. 'So, you have decided on night duty after all then?'

Following the Doctor and Palmer into the room, Jeff holstered his torch and casually unhooked his gun. Palmer remarked in his jovial tones, 'Quiet night? You look like you've seen a –'

_Thud_

The trio stopped dead halfway across the room. '– ghost.' He finished rather lamely.

_Thud_

The door of cold storage bay 107 bent at the hinges with each blow.

_Thud_

Blows coming from the inside.

_Thud_

'Well, Mr. Palmer, this is certainly something we have never encountered before.' A rather unnerved Ducky admitted.

_Thud_

'Maybe someone should open it.' Palmer suggested, making it quite clear that it was not going to be him. Jeff would have been quite content to empty his entire clip into the shuddering door. He was definitely going to have a long talk with the guys back at the office. So much for "nothing ever happens on your first night duty."

Ducky sighed and deftly strode across the remainder of the room, skirting around the autopsy tables. 'Oh well. There was never any doubt, was there?'

Jeff had the incentive to lover his gun, just in case he got a little trigger happy. He felt more at ease now that he was accompanied. Palmer proceeded to inch back the way they had come.

_Thud_

The Doctor took hold of the frosted handle, hesitated then yanked the door open. A European woman flopped headfirst out onto the floor, dripping wet and quite obviously terrified. Her black curls flopped limply around her head, clinging to her body in much the same way as her clothes. The new arrival grabbed Ducky's arms in a death grip, although she was very much alive at this stage. Bright blue eyes darted around the room in nothing short of panic.

'Help me.'

Loosening her shaking grip on his arms, Doctor Mallard lowered her gently to the floor. For the first time for as long as anyone could remember, he was lost for words.


	2. Jane Doe

On the main office floor, Caitlin Todd was fighting a losing battle. This particular battle was biscuit crumbs. The faster she brushed them off her polished timber desk the quicker and thicker they fell. Arriving direct from the President's Secret Service detail, you would think she could cope with anything. Anything bar crumbs.

'Do you have to? I mean, do you really have to? Go and mess up your own desk not mine!'

The source of her irritation as per usual was Anthony DiNozzo, resident "cool cat", or so he likes to think. At this instant, Tony was perched on the corner of her desk like a prehistoric bird of prey, finishing off one of America's largest ready-made commercial biscuits and was in the process of brushing the remaining crumbs off his Armani jacket and onto her desk.

'Well yeah Kate, I could, but then I'd have to clean it up myself which kinda defeats the purpose.' Tony slid off her desk and strutted over to his own.

'How can you even eat junk like that? It's barely lunch time and already you've stuffed a week’s worth of crap down your throat.'

Tony shrugged, spinning around in his chair and purely by luck, narrowly avoiding the sudden barrage of scrunched up notepaper coming from the opposite desk space. Timothy McGee, computer expert, hid himself in his latest novel. He had learnt the hard way not to get involved in their frequent "disagreements" as one time involved poison ivy and super glue.

Gibbs arrived shortly after in his traditional fashion; stalking noiselessly out of the lift with his morning cup of coffee from Starbucks. This retired Gunnery Sergeant was the personification of the word "boss". Most of the military population of Washington D.C. knew that if you wanted to keep all of your faculties intact to give him a wide berth. He wound his way through the maze of desks and office stations without even breaking stride. 'Let's go.'

Tony leapt out of his chair as if it was spring loaded. 'Where to, Boss?'

'Conference Room three. One of Ducky's autopsies jumped out of the freezer. McGee, get Abby.' Gibbs didn't even pause to register the mixed reactions of his team, just strode out of the office floor into the side lift.

'Uh, on it, Boss.' A rather confused McGee scurried off to the forensic labs to enlist the help of their gothic expert.

Tony's face was a picture of glee. 'I knew it was gonna happen one day!' And grabbing his brand new Motorola camera phone pranced out towards the conference rooms.

Kate sighed, tossing her gun back into its draw and following suit. "Dead man walking" was not one of her favourite sayings.

The first thing Kate noticed when she entered the conference room was the water. The floor was swamped. Gibbs was sitting opposite the assumed to-be-autopsy who, still creating a small pond from her clothes, was wrapped in a large blanket. She was clinging on to Ducky like a terrified long-legged spider. Kate moved to the other side of the table and sat between Gibbs and Tony. Tony was discretely trying to take pictures with his phone while ringing out the hem of his trousers. He could see the headlines now: "Deceased Demands Assistance". With the rights alone he could buy himself another $100 Armani tie and a Ferrari. He would go for red with gold racing stripes and that was just the tie.

Gibbs was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. 'Why don't you start by telling us who you are and how you got into our freezer?' She avoided his gaze just as quickly as he established it. It wasn't often the team noticed compassion creeping into their boss's voice. What was it he could see in her that the others couldn't?

Her voice shook with the effort of overcoming the cold and the shock. 'I don't know who I am or how I –' She pulled the blanket tighter and clung even more desperately to the Doctor. Her grip must have been stronger than it looked as every so often, Ducky winced as though needles were being plunged into his side. 'I don't even know where here is!' She almost yelled at the floor in frustration.

'Duck?' Gibbs glanced at his friend and colleague, hoping for some answers.

'Shock or trauma induced amnesia. The cold and water certainly didn't help. No ID I'm afraid, Jethro. At a rough guess, between twenty and thirty, possibly British descent judging by her slight accent and syntax although she could have been raised here in the States.'

Gibbs threw his coffee cup at the bin. 'Tony. Fingerprints.' But as Tony rounded the table to take them, the Jane Doe shrank away from him, drawing even closer to the Doctor.

'Okay then, maybe I won't.' Tony backed off.

Gibbs addressed the cowering figure, gesturing towards Ducky. 'How do you know you can trust him?'

She finally looked him in the eyes. It was hard to tell whose were bluer. They might actually be getting somewhere.

She frowned in an attempt to remember more and thus failing this, sadly shook her head. Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

'You're a Marine.'

'Yes, yes I am.'

'Mum used to say that; if anything happens, find a Marine. They'll always help you if you just tell them –' her voice trailed off into ambiguity.

'Tell them what?' Gibbs leaned across the table.

'I – I don't know.'

Ducky decided this was becoming too much of an interrogation.

'Jethro, her memory will come back in time and it won't be helped by constant questioning.'

It was at this moment that McGee appeared followed by Abigail Sciuto resplendent as usual in black. Today, she was going for a high school cheerleader meets Sweeney Todd look. They both stopped short as the Jane Doe yelled again in frustration. 'I – I want to help! Something has happened, something awful but I can't remember what!'

McGee and Abby were turned around almost immediately by Gibbs. 'Go back down there and run a search on missing persons, pull security tapes from last night and while you're at it make sure none of this gets out.'

'On it, Boss.'

'Sure Gibbs.'

'And the rest of you, go get lunch.'


	3. Major Problem Number Two

Back in the incident room after a short lunch break, Gibbs was demanding preliminary reports over his sixth cup of coffee while Jane Doe stared aimlessly out of the double story windows. 'Okay, what do we know so far?'

Abby was the first to offer her input. 'I ran her prints through AFIS and got nada. She either has no criminal record and nothing to do with the military or the FBI is holding out on us again.'

'Wouldn't put it past them. The only people who could have put her in our morgue are Feds The question is why?' The last part was directed at Kate, their resident profiler.

'Maybe she found out something that she wasn't supposed to and they put her in there to either wipe her memory or to kill her.'

Tony, with a mouth full of Chinese noodles disagreed. 'If they wanted to kill her, Kate, they could have put a bullet in her.'

'True, Tony, but then they would have to cover it up.'

McGee decided now was the right time to offer his views. 'They would have had to dispose of the body in a way that it couldn't be traced back to them and even so they must have known that her memory would come back in time.'

Tony stabbed his fork in McGee's general direction. He had long ago given up on chopsticks. 'My point is, Probie, there are easier ways of stopping people from talking.'

Gibbs pushed his empty cup into the bin. 'DiNozzo's right. I want you to recreate what happened last night, talk to people and figure out how the hell she got in here. Did you get anything from the camera tapes?'

McGee did not like being the barer of bad news when Gibbs is involved but he had lost the coin toss with Abby. 'Nothing yet, Boss. The guard, Petty Officer Jeffrey Kutler, entered the floor at zero hundred, Ducky and Palmer arrived at zero four hundred and she fell out of the freezer at zero four twenty two. No one else showed up on the tapes for the entire night.'

'Go over them again with Abby.’

Jane Doe's voice cut through the orders. It was not a loud voice but it was clear and carried. 'Mum and Dad.' She was still staring out of the window but turned as the silence became apparent. 'Mum was Navy but never went to sea; Dad was a LEO but not the star sign. Now why do I know that?'

Tony sarcasm was paramount, 'Great! Now she's talking in cryptic riddles. Maybe we should get Ducky back up here, he's good at crosswords – ow!'

His suggestion was cut short by a swift, sharp slap to the back of his head, curtsey of Gibbs who somehow managed to keep his deadpan expression.

'Follow up on that, DiNozzo.'

Tony was not going to go quietly. 'Come on, Boss! Do you know how many people constitute the Navy and Law Enforcement?'

'Sure, DiNozzo, so you better get busy.'

The rest of Tony's complaint fell on deaf ears as everyone's attention was on the forward lift as the doors open and out marched two FBI agents who, for once, were not looking like they owned the place. The FBI are never welcome guests at the best of times and the fact that they were not being led by their immediate superior was so out of the ordinary it was almost impossible. Gibbs was close to seriously considering going for that second eye pair ignored the gazes of practically everyone on the office floor and made straight for Gibbs' desk. Gibbs didn't even glance up. 'Where's Tobias, Freedman?'

Agent Freeman seemed reluctant to "come clean". 'We need your help, Agent Gibbs.'

Gibbs gave him his best "just get to the point" stare. 'Then why isn't Fornell here telling me this himself?'

'That's why we're here.' Finished Freedman. 'He's missing, sir. His office was ransacked, and he hasn't shown up.'

Gibbs struggled to hide his disbelief. 'Are we talking about the same Fornell?'

'His cell phone's off, he's not answering at home, the GPS in his car isn't registering, our building's in lockdown. We've got nowhere else to turn to –'

Carnon finished his colleague's sentence. ' –and there's no way in hell we're poking around our Boss's house on our own.'

Stuffing his gun in its holster, Gibbs made for the lift. 'Kate, McGee, grab your gear! Tony, gas the truck! You two coming or not?' He yelled back at the guys from the Hoover Building.

Carnon and Freedman dodged through the lift doors just before they closed.

Carnon's metallic black 2001 Chevrolet Corvette C5 pulled into the small laneway following the large, multi-purpose, NCIS Major Case Response Team Vehicle. Chevrolets are not practical cars for use in the field but at least it looks good and blends in in Vegas. This was the first time Carnon had had to use it for work and he was seriously hoping it wouldn't get damaged. His insurance didn't cover bullet holes or high-speed collision damage. He was glad he wasn't driving as there was absolutely no way to see what was coming the other way thanks to their friends in the pseudo-semi._ So much for the element of surprise. _Fornell's house was one of only a few large semi-rural houses that had survived the city developers and occupied a twelve-acre block, backing on to State forest. A horse stable was just visible beyond the brick veranda. Gibbs parked the truck on the lawn, barely leaving enough room for the Corvette to squeeze into the driveway.

Flanked by his own team and the FBI pair, Gibbs bounded up the steps, bashing with all his might upon the front door. 'Tobias! Open up!' He didn't stop until he had physically splintered and dented the door. _Sorry about that, Tobias._

Tony suggested a Hollywood cliché,

'Spare key above the door, Boss?'

Gibbs was already rooting around behind the only flowerpot on the porch. Another cliché. You would think that people would think of more inventive places to put things.

'He's shorter than me, DiNozzo.' In his left hand he held the spare key, drawing his gun with his right. The others took the hint and drew theirs.

Carnon and Freedman took the right side of the door; Tony took the left behind Gibbs. McGee and Kate went around the porch to try and locate the back door. Gibbs slowly mimed out three, turned the key and shoved the door in. They certainly weren't prepared for the sight that met their eyes.

The photos in the hall were shattered, the lights hung by single wires having been pulled from their fittings, the small oak letter table was smashed into pieces, its previous contents strewn across the floor, but the worst part was the blood. It covered the floor, spattered the walls and stuck to almost every surface. The place reeked of death.

'Oh my God!' breathed Freedman as they stepped over the carnage into the joint lounge and dining room. The desolation hadn't stopped with the hall. The once grand mahogany table was blood spattered and nothing more than splintered firewood, the leather lounges were slashed and had springs hanging out and the wallpaper was literally torn from the walls.

Kate and McGee entered from the kitchen their faces masks of pain, disbelief and disgust. Apparently, the kitchen wasn't in any better shape and the blood trail led to the upper level. McGee looked like he was going to be sick and nearly sprinted back outside. Tony voiced the most obvious phrase he could think of. 'He didn't go quietly.'

Carnon raised his glazed eyes from the bloodstained timber flooring. 'Fornell always was a fighter. Always had to have the last word.'

Freedman also took great comfort in the impromptu conversation. 'Whenever it was slow in the office, he'd give us challenges. We once challenged him to two on one basketball; him against us. We found his old trophies.' He explained.

Carnon chuckled, 'He flogged us both. Sure, he spent the rest of the day lying flat on his back behind his desk moaning but –'

Freedman finished Carnon's sentence, '–the rest of the office have never let us live it down."

'Gibbs.' Kate had picked up a photo, lying face down under its smashed frame. On the reverse side, scrawled in the same blood covering the room was an initial. S.M.

Gibbs rounded on the agents still recalling the 42-0 flogging they had endured. 'Did you check with Sammi?' No reply. 'Did you check with Sammi?' Again, no reply as he barrelled out towards the front door. 'Get in the truck. Now!'

There are only a few things in the known world that are more frightening than Gibbs' driving but right now, Tony could not, for the life of him, think of what they were. Kate had offered to drive but only Gibbs knew the way. The only thing they could do was hold on and pray that there was nothing coming the other way or had lost their FBI counterparts or McGee.

'Speed hump!'

_Kathud_

'Ow!'

_Smash_

Nope, McGee was still with them but for how much longer remained to be seen.

Everyone was slammed against the doors as Gibbs rally slid the MCR Truck into the street corner, slamming down on the breaks to come jerking to a stop just outside number seven. Tony pealed his face off the passenger side window. 'You know, Boss, one of these day's you're gonna end up killin' us.'

'Yep, better you than me, DiNozzo. McGee, stay in the truck.' Gibbs jumped down and glanced up the street, pulling down his cap. 'Where are the others?'

'I think you lost them somewhere between Fornell's front lawn and the end of his street, Boss.'

Kate pointed out the jet-black car. 'Here they come.'

Freedman parked across the street and Gibbs watched, amused, as they both climbed unsteadily out onto the pavement. Once they were all on the same side of the road a similar procedure was carried out. Gibbs bashed on the door and after waiting the cursory twenty seconds, kicked in the door with gun drawn.

All five agents stormed into the living room to find the very last thing they expected. Fornell was sitting, feet up in a leather recliner casually sipping coffee. He glared at Gibbs with a mixture of irritation and amusement. 'Jethro. I didn't expect to see you here. What's the big emergency?'

Tony lowered his gun but didn't holster it. 'I take it you didn't make it home last night, Fornell.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Well for starters, you don't show up for work,’

‘I put in for leave.’

‘Your lackeys come to us for help and we find your house ransacked and everything in it smashed to bits with blood all over it.'

Fornell slammed his mug down on the table so hard that coffee sloshed everywhere. 'What?' It was more from shock than anger.

'Are you sure you're alright, sir?' Carnon ventured tentatively as Fornell shook coffee off his hand.

A muffled crash and thud came from down the hall followed by an infuriated female voice. 'Ow! For God's sake! How many times have I told you not to leave that lying around? That's the fifth time I've –' she broke off abruptly as she entered the room and saw they had company. She was rather attractive for her age. Dark reddy-brown curls reaching below her shoulders and green eyes that looked like they should be able to glow in the dark. She barely reached Gibbs shoulder, yet she gave off the impression that if she wanted you out of the way, size would not be an issue. 'Oh, hey Gibbs. I take it this is not a courtesy call.' It was a statement, not a question as she took in the guns some still had in their hands. 'And you've got my badge.' Hands on hips, she faced Fornell.

Fornell spread his hands in earnest. 'I have my badge. I don't know what you've done with yours. Hey!'

The last part was an involuntary reaction as she pushed him back into the chair and proceeded to reach around to unhook her badge and chain from the back of his belt and was met by only half-hearted resistance. Holding the chained badge in one hand she shoved the other she was holding into his belt. 'This one is mine and I want my fifty bucks that was in it too.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Not very convincing, even for an FBI agent.

She held out her hand and turned up her glare from "I'm slightly annoyed but find this amusing" to "you're walking today".

Within moments a crisp fifty dollar bill was pressed into her palm. Between Carnon, Freedman and Tony, it was almost impossible to tell whose jaw was hanging lower.

Fornell then began the tedious business of introductions. 'Sammi, meet the cowboys.'


	4. Entangled Past

The teams from the two agencies went their own separate ways from Sammi's house; Gibbs and his team back to NCIS, Sammi, the FBI pair and Fornell to his house to inspect the damage. Tony spent the entire trip complaining. 'How come Fornell's got a girl but not me? I mean – come on! It's not like –'

Kate bit her tongue and tuning out, kept driving. Gibbs rolled his eyes and carried on staring out the window.

The nagging feeling Gibbs couldn't quite shake finally hit him when they entered the bull pen. 'Where's Jane Doe?'

In point-of-fact, Jane Doe was in autopsy with Ducky. She was curled beside his desk, watching wide-eyed with a child-like curiosity while he filled in paperwork. Every-so-often she would open her mouth as if to speak only to clamp it shut again when no articulate sounds formed. She inched up onto her knees to peer closer at the flowing script before scuttling back into the corner at any sign of the ME's eyes flickering towards her. The autopsy phone rang and Gibbs' clipped tones flowed down the line. 'Duck, take Jane Doe to Abby. Need you up here now.'

'Of course –, ' _Click_ '-Jethro.'

When Ducky entered the bull pen the briefing was already in full swing. '-McGee, you're with Abby. Tony, get in touch with Fornell. I want the pair of them here now! Kate, put it on the screen.'

A black, block lettered logo appeared bearing the legend "THRUSH" and underneath, scrawled in red ink was one short phrase: "Remember me?"

Kate was confused, 'Why would anyone send us a logo and message that doesn't make sense?'

Gibbs cocked his head and squinted at the plasma screen. 'Makes sense to someone.'

Tony hung up his desk phone. 'They're on their way, Boss."

Ducky's eyes widened in disbelief as his suppressed memories evoked by the message surfaced.

Once again, everyone turned as the lift doors opened and out stepped a tall, youngish man with black hair who was all charm and smiles. It seemed only Ducky recognized him. He was backing quickly away towards the safety of his autopsy, all the while muttering. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no.' As the team turned, he nearly sprinted towards the lift. The stranger gave chase yelling after the ME.

'Illya! Illya!'

An auditable 'huh?' ran around the room and after a final glance at each other, Gibbs ran after the pair, closely followed by Kate and Tony.

They charged into autopsy and caught one sight they had hoped to never see. Ducky was seated in his chair, head bowed, cradling a gun in his lap. The stranger was keeping his distance, hand outstretched and putting his own spin on a textbook speech.

'Illya. You don't wanna do that Illya. Illya, look at me.'

DiNozzo stared from one to the other then whispered, none to softly and to no-one in particular. 'What the hell's an "Illya"?'

Ducky raised his head just far enough for a piercing stare over his glasses, electric blue eyes shining through unfallen tears. His voice was suddenly laced with a Russian tone Kate was sure she had heard before. 'Illya is my name, Tony. My real name. A name I tried very hard to forget and the past that went with it.'

The stranger ignored the agents and continued his tirade. 'Illya – It's me. We stole a chemical equation from THRUSH before we destroyed their labs. It was a reversing drug – sets all your body systems back to wherever you code it to.'

Sammi stumbled through the doors, supported by Fornell. It seemed she had fallen out of the lift in her haste. 'Illya – listen to him. It's true. They tried it out on me first. We spent years coding it to a broad spectrum. THRUSH is starting up again – we need you.'

'I am not contemplating shooting myself, Napoleon–' and spinning the gun in his hand and loading it in one motion he stood, aiming straight at Napoleon's heart.

'You can't shoot us both, Illya.' They both slid their sleeves up revealing single shot hypodermics. Napoleon screwed the needle into his. 'One of these has got your name on it.'

Too late to intervene, Gibbs, Tony, Kate and Fornell watched in horror as Sammi darted right as Napoleon dodged left as the gun fired and caught Sammi square in the chest. As she collapsed against an autopsy table, sliding to the floor and coughing up blood, Fornell rushed to her side. Napoleon knocked the gun out of the ME's hand and slammed the needle home into his heart. Ducky's knees gave way and he collapsed into Napoleon's arms, catching the last glimpse of life in Sammi's eyes as they glazed over, still held in Fornell's firm but shaking grip.

'Maybe now you'll believe your own eyes.' Murmured Napoleon and the collective eyes of the room widened (save for Fornell who only had eyes for Sammi's limp form) and someone (possibly Gibbs) swore at the effect of the cocktail of drugs.

Ducky's hair grew steadily more golden and lengthened until it was nearly collar length complete with bangs. His eyes cleared and brightened, and his glasses fell from his face to smash on the floor as pounds dropped away and lines smoothed out while his back straightened, the vertebrae knitting together.

In a matter of minutes their aging Medical Examiner had lost nearly forty years.

'Wow!' was all Kate had to say in the matter.

Tony's mouth was somewhere around his ankles and Gibbs found himself considering a psychiatrist as well as an optometrist.

Eyes closed, Ducky/Illya leaned back into Napoleon. 'Pasha, I feel like –‘ He trailed off into a stream of slurred Russian.

'Just a side effect, Illyusha. It'll wear off.' Napoleon rested his cheek against his hair then jerked away nearly causing both of them to overbalance. 'Oh shit! Sammi!'

Napoleon stooped over her, sliding the needle strapped to her arm into her vein. 'Let's hope it's not too late.'

It wasn't.

Sammi's eyes flew open as air rushed into her lungs and, in the sudden shock of coming back from the dead, she grabbed at Fornell's shoulders nearly dragging him to the floor. 'Oh God! I'd forgotten how much that hurts!' Using Fornell as a brace she turned her head until she caught sight of her shooter. 'You bastard! You shot me!'

Fornell winced violently, 'Jesus, Sammi! Could you yell any louder?'

'Sorry.'

Gibbs decided now would be a good time to interrupt. 'Dammit, Duck! What the hell's goin' on?'

Napoleon shrugged apologetically. 'You would have had to tell them one day.'

Illya, leaning on the desk for support, sighed in defeat. 'Do we really have to tell them everything?'

At a nod from the exhausted blond, Sammi addressed the room at large. 'Perhaps you'd all better sit down for this part – might take a while.'


	5. Secrets of Spies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my long time friend and beta, Hse Hissie who enthusiastically offered to help even though she only knows of Illya through my obsession and has no clue what I am rabbiting on about half the time anyway. To my best friend, Napoleon will still be that evil French dude who invaded Poland and had a thing about horses or that really horrible doctor who decided that she needed a full blood works and X-ray for a sore knee.

Once again they found themselves in Conference Room three which, thankfully, this time was dry. Kate already had her suspicions.

She closed her imagination and opened her mind to the other happenstances in the room.

Tony was fighting with the wall mounted plasma while Gibbs hovered creepily over his shoulder (and I say this in the most affectionate way, Gibbs if you're reading this. I know narrators are not supposed to get involved but this constitutes extremely special circumstances) with yet another cup of coffee. Illya was seated patiently at the long, mahogany table, chin rested on triangled fingers while the one who was called Napoleon alternated between pacing up and down the length of the room and standing with his hands on the back of a chair or on Illya's shoulders. Fornell and Sammi were in the midst of a whispered yet heated argument.

'You should have never –'

'What else was I supposed to do? Let him shoot Polya?'

'You could have gotten yourself killed! In fact – you did!'

'I'm alive now, aren't I?'

'That's not the point! The point is –'

'YES!' Tony had finally managed to work the screen. A full-sized desktop photo of his prized '90 Z1 Corvette filled the screen. He hadn't gotten around to changing it after the car was totalled in a high-speed police chase a couple of weeks before. Gibbs turned, blocking the majority of the screen and addressed the still pacing American. 'Now you can tell us what's going on. Starting with, who you are.'

Napoleon sighed and straightened.

'Napoleon Solo: American spy and UNCLE agent. I specialise in people. Over there, Samantha Martinev or Karin Kuryana as we knew her. She is our European counterpart specialising in guns and computers and my partner, Illya Nickovetch (did I say it right?) Kuryakin, top cat burglar and close combat fighter. We are UNCLE's best agents. Sammi – I suppose I should call you Karin now. Would you care to do the honours?'

Karin/Sammi took over the laptop, typing codes at a speed that would make the programmers of the Geneva computer base proud. Pretty soon a bright yellow background filled the screen.

'Okay, so, UNCLE. If you look us up on Wikipedia all it will tell you we are a fictional, secret international intelligence agency created for a book, TV and movie series. We figured the easiest way to hide from the world was right under their noses. We let everyone believe we didn't exist in reality – only in fiction. Unfortunately, THRUSH adopted the same idea.'

Sammi pulled up the Wikipedia pages for UNCLE and THRUSH to emphasise her point followed by the pages dedicated to Illya and Napoleon. Disappointedly, Sammi added, 'I don't have a page…'

Illya took over. 'The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement was our full title. The headquarters was situated in New York, near the lower East 40s and headed by Mr. Alexander Waverly who passed quite a few years ago. As top agents, Napoleon and I were sent to all corners of the globe and expected not to come back. We always did but it came at a price. There was always a price.'

Napoleon placed a firm hand on Illya's shoulder, close to the base of his neck and continued where he had left off. 'The Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity was our main enemy and the enemy of the world. Their aim was for world domination, world desolation, the usual – you know how it is? Some days it's like Dick Tracy.'

Tony's brain finally registered a topic he was familiar with. '1945 original renamed Dick Tracy, Detective with Morgan Conway as Tracy and Anne Jeffreys as Tess Trueheart or the remake?'

'Yeah, you know that café?'

'The Hangman's Noose?'

'Yeah, UNCLE owns that place. We use it as a kinda "safe date" place.'

'Seriously?'

Illya's eyes gained a humorous glaze. Kate had a startling revelation. 'You two aren't related, are you?'

Illya let a sly smile play across his lips. 'It is possible.'

Eyes widened at the unthinkable. It was bad enough having one DiNozzo around let alone two. 'It is true. As you American's say: "You never know."'

Napoleon layered his voice with feigned contempt though joking threads still threatened to poke out. 'Hedonistic Russian.'

Illya's reply was just as assured. 'Decadent American.'

Sammi hung her head in her hands. Nothing every really changes. 

_I swear, I'll lock them in the lift. I wonder where my Toby's gotten himself off to._

Quite a while ago, Fornell had slunk silently out in search of decent coffee. He didn't know what Gibbs drank but it certainly wasn't coffee.

With all seriousness back in place, Illya asked one of the many questions he had been meaning to ask. 'Down in Autopsy, I –'

Napoleon finished his sentence. 'I know you wouldn't have shot me. That's never going to change.'

'What was in that hypodermic?'

'Always the scientist, Illyusha.'

Sammi brought her head up, closing her eyes to help memory recall.

'Cesiumfrancolithicmyxialobidiumrixydixydoxidexidroxhide. Red Dwarf stole the chemical name for their season eight final. They had no clue what it was though.'

'We had our best scientists working on it for decades. It took them so long because, before he left, Mr. Kuryakin reorganized the lab again.'

Gibbs made for the door. Kate cast suspicious eyes towards her boss. 'Where are you going, Gibbs?'

'To get coffee.'

Tony saw his only route of escape from this nauseating room. 'Can I come, Boss?'

'Nope.'


	6. Locked Down

Gibbs strolled into Abby's lab greeting McGee with a slap to the head for playing computer games and Abby with an extra-large Caf-Pow! 'Watcha got for me Abs?'

'I can't find anything, Gibbs', Abby whined. 'Nothing, zip, nada. Jane doe is still a Jane Doe.'

'Where is she?'

Abby sucked absentmindedly at her drink. 'In the ballistics lab. She won't talk to me or McGee.'

Gibbs peered through the glass of the ballistics lab. Jane Doe returned Gibbs' questioning gaze with a glare and, again, he couldn't quite place her or it.

'Run her prints again.'

'But Gibbs –'

'I wanna know who she is. Preferably now.'

The ballistics door hissed open and the woman in question, brimming with confidence, strutted out of the lab.

'Now is when you will have it. My name is Luciana Kurie, FBI. I am an American citizen and my age is not important. May I leave now? Sir.' She added at the look on Gibbs' face.

'McGee, pull up her file. You', he pointed at Kurie, 'explain why no one has reported you missing and how you got in here.'

'I dunno how I got in here – to be honest. My team and I were on "classified ops'" so – OH SHI-! My team!'

'What about your team?'

Gibbs was worried and a worried Gibbs is not good.

'We were ambushed – I managed to get most of us to our safe house but somehow, they knew where to find us. They held me back. I don't know what happened after that, but I can guess.'

She was looking more than a little worse off for the explanation and Gibbs' gut was still churning.

'Fine. Go back home; don't talk to anyone. Abby, McGee, get in touch with the FBI; see if you can help them process Fornell's house. If they say no, get copies off them anyway. Don't let 'em know though.'

And with that final order he followed the agent out of the lab.

McGee gaped at the forensic expert. 'Did Gibbs just tell us to hack into the FBI?'

Abby just grinned into her caffeine drink.

Tony caught a glimpse of the lift doors opening and buried himself in a file. 'Hey, boss! Jane Doe –'

'Jane Doe is a Ms Luciana Kurie, FBI.'

'Yeah they –'

'Does Fornell know?'

'Uh, no but –'

'Good, don't tell him. Kate, you're with me.'

Kate's head snapped up from her PDA. 'Where are we going?'

'To see a man called Uncle.'

Kate winced as the tires bounced off the kerb again. Napoleon Solo was driving. _Drives a lot like Gibbs. _She thought. _And neither of them should have their license. _Once again they hit the kerb and Kate turned her head away from the road. Ducky seemed to share her opinion; his eyes were clamped shut and with every speed hump they ploughed through, the more his otherwise pale face tinged with green. Gibbs, she noticed with a tinge of resentment, seemed to be enjoying himself.

After what seemed like an age, Solo slowed the truck down and parked outside Del Floria's Tailor/Dry-Cleaning Shop. Napoleon held open the door for the others with a smile, 'After you.'

Illya barged past, making straight for the third dressing room. Before he had reached the red velvet curtain, the distinctive sound of gunfire echoed out, followed by the sound of something heavy connecting with an immovable object.

Quicker than any of the others, Illya had a gun drawn: a gun Gibbs had not realised he was carrying. Napoleon wrenched open the curtain and the agents did not need to ask what the immovable object had been. The rear wall of the shop which housed the secret door and elevator into UNCLE headquarters was missing and in its place was a solid steel slab.

'They're in lockdown. We've been compromised – again.'

Napoleon's gaze slowly swept over the occupants of the room. Gibbs was on full alert. 'What's that sound?'

Kate was feeling very jumpy. 'What sound?'

Illya put his onomatopoeia to use. 'Beeping.'

'Uh, Illya.'

_Click_

'RUN!"

There was a mad dash to the door with Gibbs in the lead. Napoleon practically picked up Kate and threw her out into the street only to be shoved through himself by Illya. All four dove behind the truck and hit the tar of the road as the entire shop was blown apart. Shrapnel rained down with fiery embers and the truck rocked with the force of the explosion.

Gibbs, who was the first out of the building, shook soot onto the ground as he pushed himself up onto his knees. 'Everyone alright?'

Kate wiped blood off her brow with her least dusty hand. 'I'm okay.'

Napoleon pushed his back against the truck. 'I hate THRUSH bombs. Illya, you alright? Illya?'

Their silence was met by a fierce coughing fit as the blond struggled onto his hands and knees. Being the last out, he had received the worst of the blast. 'I'm – fine.'

Napoleon held his partner steady while his coughing fit continued. 'Next time, I'll call ahead.'

'So _Doctor_, How bad is it?'

Illya was not in the mood for Napoleon's bad taste in jokes – not with this headache.

'Ask that one more time and you will find this needle sticking right –'

'Just asking.'

Napoleon was not one to just sit still and let you get on with your work.

'Who was in headquarters?'

Napoleon seemed reluctant to answer directly. 'I should have been there – I should have called.'

'We do not come with built in radars and surveillance systems.' Illya countered, 'Except for Gibbs.' He added almost as an afterthought.

'Radars are overrated.' Gibbs’ voice came from behind them.

Later on, both men would swear the door never opened.

'So, what was it, Duck?'

He finished sewing up the gash in Solo's arm before he answered. 'A typical THRUSH bomb, Jethro. In one word – overkill. I don't know what they use now but their compounds generally included every type of high explosive they could get their hands on, either legally or illegally. Generally, they don't come with timers.'

'Someone knew we were coming.'

'I'm afraid so, Jethro.'

'Do you know who was in there?'

Napoleon slid awkwardly off the autopsy table. 'Don't I get a chance to answer?'

'No! So, sit back down and shut up!'

Napoleon was taken aback and obediently climbed back onto the table.

Thankfully, both Solo and Gibbs were spared the wrath of the Medical Examiner by an apologetic and rather terrified sounding McGee on the phone from the bull pen. 'Uh, Boss. There's something up here you should see. And that includes Ducky and Solo.'

The trio had barely exited the elevator when they were waylaid by a disgruntled Fornell. 'What's this I hear about a covert squad? If –'

'We've got a BIG problem guys!' Saved by Sammi, 'And I mean a problema muy grande! A molto grosso problema even!'

McGee came out from behind his computer and handed Gibbs a sheet of paper. 'This just got faxed to us.'

The letterhead was distinctly that of THRUSH and the writing was not dissimilar to the scratchy, blood red etchings of the first note. It read, "How's your head, Kuryakin? Smile for the camera. I can see you all and your pitiful team. Say goodbye Kuryakin – before I say hello."

Not even Tony could come up with a movie or TV quote or even a smart-ass comment.

_Beep_

_Bing_

_Whir_

_Kaching_

The fax machine had started up again and the first thing that printed was the legend. Kate snatched it up and gasped. It simply stated: "Turn on the plasma, Caitlin, be a dear.”

She didn't need to: by the time she had passed the sheet to Gibbs the screen sprang to life. After the usual utterances of "Oh my", "What the" and "Huh" died down, the picture cleared and the next collective thought of the room was somewhere along the lines of, "This guy's a maniac." Even though it wasn't a guy at all.

'I'm disappointed in you, Kuryakin. I thought you had better taste." She gestured vaguely to where the others stood and smiled. It was a chilling, psychotic smile which made even Gibbs shiver inside. Green eyes protruding from a face framed by black frizzed hair only added to her stereotyped appearance of a mad-woman with far too much power.

'You can't run, Kuryakin. I can see you, I can hear you but I'm not coming to get you. Not personally anyway. THRUSH is back and this time there is no UNCLE to stop me!'

Gibbs grabbed a phone and dialled security. 'Gibbs. Full lockdown! Repeat, full lockdown NOW!'

The power cut out and the echoes of her blood chilling cackle of glee faded away.

The last thing anyone heard before the entire building shut down and left in darkness was Fornell's sarcastic growl. 'Well this should be fun.'


	7. Kept in the Dark

It was less than fifty long, drawn out minutes into the total lockdown and Ducky (he still thought of himself as "Ducky" rather than "Illya" – that past was too deeply buried) was surprised to find they weren't at each other's throats – metaphorically speaking. Even though visibility was next to none if Napoleon tried anything, he would find himself singing soprano for a least a week. The welcome silence wasn't to last.

'You know what this reminds me of? This reminds me of –'

'Tony, if you say Alien, I will throw my calculator at you.'

'Actually, McGeek, this is nothing like Alien – there's no cheesy green lighting. I was thinking more along the lines of –'

'Tony, please – no more movies.'

'Harry Dean Stanton –'

'DiNozzo!'

'Sorry Boss. Anyone got an iPod we can plug into the speakers? I've got a sudden urge to sing "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" or "Stuck In the Middle With You"'

They knew they couldn't be seen but all the same, seven pairs of eyes rolled in their sockets.

'Tony, there's no power. The speakers run off the mains.'

'Probie, you think I don't know that? Hey Kate, let's play charades.'

'It's dark, Tony.'

'Twister then. Come on! It'll be fun!'

'Ow! DiNutso! That's me!'

'Sorry Fornell – forgot you were here.'

'You will be sorry if you don't take your hand off my –'

Unseen hands flew to ears as a short, sharp whistle silenced the mounting row. Gibbs' most authoritative voice rang out from somewhere in the direction of his desk chair.

'DiNozzo! Stay away from Kate and Fornell. Fornell, Sammi – put your gun down! If anyone's gonna be doin' any shootin' it's me! Another twenty minutes and we'll have lights again so everyone just stay still!'

_Smack_

'OW!'

'I warned you.'

Even in the pitch black you could almost see Ducky's grin silently spreading from ear to ear.

With an electronic whir, a click and occasional flicker the power returned to the lighting, air conditioning systems and the lifts but nothing else. Precautions still had to be taken even though any immediate danger would seem to have passed. An interesting sight met the team leader's eyes as he swung around in his chair;

Kate was curled cat like next to her desk, Tony had taken over the entire walkway, splayed out and reclined as if he was on a La-Z-boy sofa instead of the floor of a federal building. Fornell had backed himself up between McGee's filing cabinet and Tony's desk and with one hand on his gun he was creating the distinct impression that he wanted to get as far away from everyone as possible. Sammi had managed to snare herself McGee's chair and was kicked back with feet on his desk while McGee himself was cross legged in front.

Tony and Kate picked themselves off the floor, while Fornell unwedged himself from his convenient hiding hole, the latter two putting as much distance between themselves and Tony as they could casually muster. Grabbing Gibbs none too gently by the elbow and steering him towards their usual "conference room" with a muttered 'We need to talk'.

Once his elbow was free, Gibbs followed just a pace or two behind, allowing the FBI agent to precede him into the lift. Once the doors pinged shut and the uneasy descending feeling began Gibbs punched the emergency stop switch with more force than was strictly necessary. The lift juddered to a stop, bathing the occupants in an eerie bluish white glow which both had become quite accustomed to and Gibbs began his ranting and raving.

'Do you have any idea what the hell anyone is talking about and how the hell did some maniac bitch get up on our screen? One minute Ducky is Ducky and now he's supposed to be some Russian spy from some secret organisation called UNCLE, which I'm not convinced even exists or ever did!'

Fornell sighed and tipped his head back against the cool metal of the lift. It was just one of those days. 'Well somebody is and they're pretty damn sure that your M.E. is this Kuryakin person and is out to take him down, Jethro. Whether you are convinced or not, that woman could just be insane but that Solo character is another matter.' Lapsing into silence for a minute or two, he continued to study the ceiling of their box. 'Maybe we’ve all gone nuts.’

Gibbs' hand twitched in need of a coffee cup to hold. 'Yeah. Gibbs shrugged slightly, rubbed his face with a hand and sighed. 'I need coffee. I need to know how a camera got in here, what the bottom line is and what the hell it is you're not telling me Tobias.'

He sighed again and reached for the 'on' switch but found his hand stopped by Fornell's.

'Maybe it is time the FBI came clean in all this.'

'Ya think?' Gibbs shrugged the hand off. 'If you've got the answers to all this but just didn't feel like sharing Tobias, so help me God, I will beat you down like a Probie on his first assignment!' Gibbs practically roared in his face.

Fornell took a step back before answering. 'We've known about UNCLE since the late fifties, maybe decades before that. Unofficially, at any rate – depends who you talk to. J. Edgar Hoover was none too happy when they started sticking their noses into everything, but he couldn't prevent it either. Apparently, they had their claws into every country and had the authority to match. When they brought Kuryakin in, in the early sixties, we started surveillance or at least we tried. Kuryakin was a slippery little bastard, shook every one of our tails. Made the Bureau chief insane.'

'That's no great feat, Fornell.' Gibbs was not in an agreeing mood.

'You didn't know our chief back then. Trust me, you didn't want to – he was a bigger bastard than you and had the personality to match. Anyhow, UNCLE went about its business, we went about ours and nary the two met – at least never more than we had to and we always kept at least an arm's length from those two.' He jerked his head toward the closed doors.

'Solo and Duck…Kuryakin?'

Fornell nodded, pushing himself off the wall and crossing his arms across his chest. 'UNCLE's golden boys – if you believe a third of the rumours that followed them, they've done everything from halting nuclear annihilation to killing Hitler…again. Whoever's after the Russian isn't someone to mess with, Jethro and I doubt even you could bully them into submission.' Fornell reached out and touched Gibbs' arm tentatively. 'And we need to be together on this one. No more screw ups.'

Gibbs looked down at Fornell's hand and then back up to his face, steel blue eyes boring into his own unwavering gaze. Several different emotions fought for prominence. Indifference finally won out. 'Something else you wanna tell me, Tobias?'

'Ah, no…well, yes, but it can wait…for now, I suppose.'

'Can I have my arm back, or were you planning on keeping it as a souvenir?'

Fornell jerked his hand away, realising what exactly was meant by the jibe.

'Ugh, don't even joke. After toes, fingers and meat puzzles, that's not as funny as it could be. It almost rates on the DiNutso scale on a good day.'

With a hidden smile lighting his eyes, Gibbs flicked the 'on' switch that would return them to the bull pen just as his mobile rang.

'Yeah, Gibbs.'

Abby's hyperactive voice bubbled out from the speaker, loud enough that even Fornell heard her side of the conversation and Gibbs took the precaution to move the phone fractionally away from his ear.

'Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! We found something down in autopsy! When the lights came back on I –'

'Abs – who is "we".'

'Me and Jimmy, yeah Gibbs, when the lights came back on I went down to autopsy hoping Duckman was there – and he wasn't! I haven't seen him all day Gibbs!' Her fear was beginning to seep into her voice.

'Just get to the point, Abs.'

As much as Gibbs liked Abby, sometimes her round-the-world explanations, much like Ducky's, often got rather tiresome.

'One of the freezers isn't a freezer!'

Sensing an impending explanation, Gibbs cut her off.

'That's great, Abs. We'll be right down.'

'But, Gibbs –'

He hung up meeting Fornell's even more confused gaze. _Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder or more complicated today. Well that's rule eight for you._


	8. Stone Walled

It was less than fifty long, drawn out minutes into the total lockdown and Ducky (he still thought of himself as "Ducky" rather than "Illya" – that past was too deeply buried) was surprised to find they weren't at each other's throats – metaphorically speaking. Even though visibility was next to none if Napoleon tried anything, he would find himself singing soprano for a least a week. The welcome silence wasn't to last.

'You know what this reminds me of? This reminds me of –'

'Tony, if you say Alien, I will throw my calculator at you.'

'Actually, McGeek, this is nothing like Alien – there's no cheesy green lighting. I was thinking more along the lines of –'

'Tony, please – no more movies.'

'Harry Dean Stanton –'

'DiNozzo!'

'Sorry Boss. Anyone got an iPod we can plug into the speakers? I've got a sudden urge to sing "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" or "Stuck In the Middle With You"'

They knew they couldn't be seen but all the same, seven pairs of eyes rolled in their sockets.

'Tony, there's no power. The speakers run off the mains.'

'Probie, you think I don't know that? Hey Kate, let's play charades.'

'It's dark, Tony.'

'Twister then. Come on! It'll be fun!'

'Ow! DiNutso! That's me!'

'Sorry Fornell – forgot you were here.'

'You will be sorry if you don't take your hand off my –'

Unseen hands flew to ears as a short, sharp whistle silenced the mounting row. Gibbs' most authoritative voice rang out from somewhere in the direction of his desk chair.

'DiNozzo! Stay away from Kate and Fornell. Fornell, Sammi – put your gun down! If anyone's gonna be doin' any shootin' it's me! Another twenty minutes and we'll have lights again so everyone just stay still!'

_Smack_

'OW!'

'I warned you.'

Even in the pitch black you could almost see Ducky's grin silently spreading from ear to ear.

With an electronic whir, a click and occasional flicker the power returned to the lighting, air conditioning systems and the lifts but nothing else. Precautions still had to be taken even though any immediate danger would seem to have passed. An interesting sight met the team leader's eyes as he swung around in his chair;

Kate was curled cat like next to her desk, Tony had taken over the entire walkway, splayed out and reclined as if he was on a La-Z-boy sofa instead of the floor of a federal building. Fornell had backed himself up between McGee's filing cabinet and Tony's desk and with one hand on his gun he was creating the distinct impression that he wanted to get as far away from everyone as possible. Sammi had managed to snare herself McGee's chair and was kicked back with feet on his desk while McGee himself was cross legged in front.

Tony and Kate picked themselves off the floor, while Fornell unwedged himself from his convenient hiding hole, the latter two putting as much distance between themselves and Tony as they could casually muster. Grabbing Gibbs none too gently by the elbow and steering him towards their usual "conference room" with a muttered 'We need to talk'.

Once his elbow was free, Gibbs followed just a pace or two behind, allowing the FBI agent to precede him into the lift. Once the doors pinged shut and the uneasy descending feeling began Gibbs punched the emergency stop switch with more force than was strictly necessary. The lift juddered to a stop, bathing the occupants in an eerie bluish white glow which both had become quite accustomed to and Gibbs began his ranting and raving.

'Do you have any idea what the hell anyone is talking about and how the hell did some maniac bitch get up on our screen? One minute Ducky is Ducky and now he's supposed to be some Russian spy from some secret organisation called UNCLE, which I'm not convinced even exists or ever did!'

Fornell sighed and tipped his head back against the cool metal of the lift. It was just one of those days. 'Well somebody is and they're pretty damn sure that your M.E. is this Kuryakin person and is out to take him down, Jethro. Whether you are convinced or not, that woman could just be insane but that Solo character is another matter.' Lapsing into silence for a minute or two, he continued to study the ceiling of their box. 'Maybe we’ve all gone nuts.’

Gibbs' hand twitched in need of a coffee cup to hold. 'Yeah. Gibbs shrugged slightly, rubbed his face with a hand and sighed. 'I need coffee. I need to know how a camera got in here, what the bottom line is and what the hell it is you're not telling me Tobias.'

He sighed again and reached for the 'on' switch but found his hand stopped by Fornell's.

'Maybe it is time the FBI came clean in all this.'

'Ya think?' Gibbs shrugged the hand off. 'If you've got the answers to all this but just didn't feel like sharing Tobias, so help me God, I will beat you down like a Probie on his first assignment!' Gibbs practically roared in his face.

Fornell took a step back before answering. 'We've known about UNCLE since the late fifties, maybe decades before that. Unofficially, at any rate – depends who you talk to. J. Edgar Hoover was none too happy when they started sticking their noses into everything, but he couldn't prevent it either. Apparently, they had their claws into every country and had the authority to match. When they brought Kuryakin in, in the early sixties, we started surveillance or at least we tried. Kuryakin was a slippery little bastard, shook every one of our tails. Made the Bureau chief insane.'

'That's no great feat, Fornell.' Gibbs was not in an agreeing mood.

'You didn't know our chief back then. Trust me, you didn't want to – he was a bigger bastard than you and had the personality to match. Anyhow, UNCLE went about its business, we went about ours and nary the two met – at least never more than we had to and we always kept at least an arm's length from those two.' He jerked his head toward the closed doors.

'Solo and Duck…Kuryakin?'

Fornell nodded, pushing himself off the wall and crossing his arms across his chest. 'UNCLE's golden boys – if you believe a third of the rumours that followed them, they've done everything from halting nuclear annihilation to killing Hitler…again. Whoever's after the Russian isn't someone to mess with, Jethro and I doubt even you could bully them into submission.' Fornell reached out and touched Gibbs' arm tentatively. 'And we need to be together on this one. No more screw ups.'

Gibbs looked down at Fornell's hand and then back up to his face, steel blue eyes boring into his own unwavering gaze. Several different emotions fought for prominence. Indifference finally won out. 'Something else you wanna tell me, Tobias?'

'Ah, no…well, yes, but it can wait…for now, I suppose.'

'Can I have my arm back, or were you planning on keeping it as a souvenir?'

Fornell jerked his hand away, realising what exactly was meant by the jibe.

'Ugh, don't even joke. After toes, fingers and meat puzzles, that's not as funny as it could be. It almost rates on the DiNutso scale on a good day.'

With a hidden smile lighting his eyes, Gibbs flicked the 'on' switch that would return them to the bull pen just as his mobile rang.

'Yeah, Gibbs.'

Abby's hyperactive voice bubbled out from the speaker, loud enough that even Fornell heard her side of the conversation and Gibbs took the precaution to move the phone fractionally away from his ear.

'Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! We found something down in autopsy! When the lights came back on I –'

'Abs – who is "we".'

'Me and Jimmy, yeah Gibbs, when the lights came back on I went down to autopsy hoping Duckman was there – and he wasn't! I haven't seen him all day Gibbs!' Her fear was beginning to seep into her voice.

'Just get to the point, Abs.'

As much as Gibbs liked Abby, sometimes her round-the-world explanations, much like Ducky's, often got rather tiresome.

'One of the freezers isn't a freezer!'

Sensing an impending explanation, Gibbs cut her off.

'That's great, Abs. We'll be right down.'

'But, Gibbs –'

He hung up meeting Fornell's even more confused gaze. _Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder or more complicated today. Well that's rule eight for you._


	9. Dasvidanya Napasha (Goodbye Napoleon)

Kuryakin, Solo and Sammi fanned out across the width of the laboratory with the intent of walking into anything they had to walk into with their eyes open. It is hard to look professional when you are strung up by your ankles six feet above the ground with a gun pointed at your head and trust me when I say they had been in a few situations like that over the years.

Sammi immediately swept over to the computer banks in the rear left corner dumping piles of algorithms and experiment reports onto the floor to glance over the instrumentation. 'Well it is definitely THRUSH.' She concluded after blowing dust and grit out of an engraved bird in the top of the monitor.

Kuryakin had moved to the far-left corner in which lay rows of benches displaying equipment in various stages of construction; weapons, beakers, crucibles, Bunsen burners on stands, soldering irons and a myriad of other tools and holding vessels. 'Most definitely our feathered friends.' He concurred rolling a particularly deadly looking apparatus in his hands. 'I assume this is meant to be a gun of some sort.'

Solo was rifling through multitudes of filing cabinets in the adjacent corner to his partner, humming while he flicked from 'K' to 'S'. 'Oh, look Illya,' he waved a pair of folders around in mock surprise. 'They have folders on us. Who'd've thought? You should be pleased Sammi,' he told her as he dove back into another cabinet, 'you've got one too. That should be worth at least three Wikipedia pages, right?'

Gibbs and Fornell busied themselves by looking completely lost around by the closed door they had come through.

A sharp electronic noise sent Kuryakin and Solo to the space between the cabinets and the benches with guns drawn. Sammi scurried between Gibbs and Fornell also with guns drawn. A large projection screen dropped from the roof to cover the wall in front of them and the same woman who had appeared on the plasma screen in the squad room was leering down at the scattered group. She seemed to be oblivious to all but Illya.

'No matter what happens here Kuryakin, I will win! By the time you see this, I will be happily dead and content in the fact that you will suffer Kuryakin. You will regret the day you rejected me! Rejected the glory of THRUSH! I'm afraid this really is dasvidanya!’

Dasvidanya must have been the code word for an audio trigger as a large transparent cube rose up from the laminated floor encompassing the UNCLE agents in an air tight chamber. As the screen shut off and retracted the NCIS agents started forward but were stopped by a similar large transparent wall rising up in the space between the chamber and the wall directly behind them. Gibbs pulled Sammi out and over the rising barrier to keep her on his side. Through the Plexiglas walls, everyone had a clear view of everyone else.

Illya was shoulder charging with all his might upon one side as Napoleon repeatedly shoulder kicked another. Both faltered as a long, satisfied, maniac laugh rang out over the speakers. The trio on the side-lines watched in horror as the chamber slowly filled with a grey cloudy gas. Sammi screamed as Illya and Napoleon clutched desperately at each other as they slowly collapsed onto the floor and the air in the chamber was so thick with gas it soon became impossible to see into. Gibbs threw himself upon the glass separating them from the chamber yelling 'Duck!' but it would not shift, and no-one would answer. Sammi sunk to her knees screaming and sobbing with Fornell on one knee beside her, clutching her shoulders drawing her to him.

The gas finally dissipated and only Gibbs had not torn his eyes away. The gas had reversed the effect of the drugs coursing through the UNCLE agents' systems. Back to their proper age and looking ever moment of it, Illya was cradling the lifeless body of Napoleon in his arms, all self-control, dignity and façade forgotten. His clouded eyes were screaming murder as blue as the outside of his retinas. Slowly, he raised his head and locked gazes with Gibbs and for the first time in years the ex-Marine was purely terrified by what he saw. He could accept, given time that his old, gentle and kindly friend was an international spy; could even accept he was Russian instead of Scottish but he would not, could not accept the cold blooded killer presented to him through the eyes of one who was his friend.

The walls separating the, now quad, were lowered as a countdown commenced.

'100 – 99 – 98 – 97…'

Fornell hoisted Sammi off the floor and half carried her to the door which had swung open at the beginning of the countdown. 'DAMMIT GIBBS! THIS WHOLE PLACE IS WIRED TO BLOW!'

'93 – 92 – 91 – 90…'

Gibbs ran towards his old friend. 'DUCK! COME ON!'

Ducky didn't even raise his head as the floor began to shake, resorting to his native Russian in his emotional turmoil. _No. I will not leave him. We will die together, like we promised. Like I promised._

'DUCK! WE HAVE TO GO NOW!' Gibbs grabbed Ducky's upper arms from behind and attempted to drag him away from his partner. Ducky clutched desperately at Napoleon's limp form, screaming protests. Chunks of ceiling plummeted from above as Gibbs pulled, lifted and dragged him kicking towards the exit.

_No! No! Napoleon! You cannot make me leave him! Leave me! Let me go! Let me die! Let me go! Napoleon! _

The entire rear half of the lab caved in, entombing Napoleon's body forever as Fornell appeared again, helping Gibbs to force the M.E. back up the unstable tunnel and back into autopsy.

Fornell stumbled backwards onto the cold floor, almost pulling the Medical Examiner with him as Gibbs hefted himself out of the opening. He vaguely noticed in his upside down world, Kate trying unsuccessfully to comfort Sammi, an anxious Abby bouncing on the balls of her feet, mascara all over her cheeks next to a terrified Palmer and the bemused faces of Tony and McGee as their eyes followed their beloved Ducky, who was well beyond consolation. The momentum from Gibbs' push from behind sent the doctor into a corner where he slid down and curled defensively into a ball.

'Boss? What's –' Tony was cut off as the tunnel began to cave in sending dirt spraying out into the room. Gibbs slammed the steel door closed against the tide of brown and black.

'DOWN NOW!' He yelled above the roar of the destruction as he flung himself onto the floor landing more or less on top of a rather stunned Fornell.

With moments to spare everyone else hit the deck as the explosion forced the metal door of the cooling bay out smashing through the automatic doors to land somewhere near the lift. Dirt and debris scattered the occupants of the room as cabinets fell and supplies toppled off shelves to mix in with the mounting chaos.

As the smoke and dust cleared Tony picked himself up, lightly shaking McGee's shoulder as he did so. 'Hey Probie? You okay?'

A groan and a muffled 'Huh, yeah.' followed as McGee spat a mouthful of earth out. Palmer had a nasty gash above his eye from a stray glass shard and Abby had a hand full of splinters but otherwise they were fine. Kate and Sammi were still quite shaken up but okay, Ducky hadn't moved at all and Gibbs and Fornell were out cold, half on and half off one other. This was going to take a lot of explaining.


	10. The Way Things Were

Much later the entire group assembled in the otherwise deserted squadroom. It had taken the combined effort of Palmer, McGee and DiNozzo to wrestle a very uncooperative Illya out of autopsy and into the lift. He struggled against the hands forcing his arms and shoulders behind his back; he had ducked, weaved, kicked and swore at them in a fluent and very colourful mixture of Russian and English. So, after countless minutes trapped between floors, the trio of escorts was practically in tears themselves.

At long last the adrenalin wore off and as the morbid truth sank in he dropped, dejected into an empty chair in front of McGee's desk.

_Napoleon's dead. My partner; larger than life who used to tap dance frequently on Death's door. There's nothing to keep me here. I only stayed on because of Napoleon. After U.N.C.L.E. there really was no point. If any or all of this comes out, I'll be deported, pulled up in front of my former masters at the KGB, tried and shot as a traitor. It was not meant to end like this. It was never meant to end…_

He hugged his arms around himself, gripping the medallion pendant that was a birthday present from his partner until the burning metal cut deep welts into his skin as he let the stone cold mask from his past slip silently into place.

The "kids" were huddled around Kate's desk trying to make sense of the events of the past few hours and each adding their own piece to the puzzle. Abby had firmly attached herself to McGee, the latter silently praying black mascara comes out in the wash.

'Where's Agent Fornell?' Palmer was doing his best meerkat impression as Gibbs stalked out of the lift with a tray of large coffee cups and an extra-large Caff-Pow.

'Fallen through the floor yet?' he asked, what at first glance appeared to be his empty desk and space behind it until a low groan emanated from behind followed by a majorly pissed Fornell sporting an impressive black eye and the mother of all ice packs.

'Seriously Gibbs, did you have to hit me and not the floor?'

'Well Tobias, you were in my way. Would you rather have the steel door through your neck?'

Fornell growled like a wounded grizzly bear and lowered himself back onto the floor.

_Despite everything, _he thought, _you've gotta love the bastard._

Once again a stone slab of unreadability, Illya hefted himself off the chair with his characteristic coldness. 'Now I shall take my leave of you, permanently. Do not try to find me – unlike the KGB, you never will. And once they are through with me, there'll be nothing left to find.'

'Wait, Duck!' Gibbs lowered a hand onto his shoulder. 'Illya. We could forget everything. Everything that's happened today, clear it all up. You've been Doctor Mallard for as long as I've known you and another name isn't gonna change that. No one else has to know. Just stay. Please.'

Illya turned from Gibbs' pleading eyes to Abby's mascara stained cheeks to Tony, McGee and Kate's glazed, apprehensive faces, Palmer and Fornell's rigidness, finally resting on Sammi's approving nod. Choosing the path which would, to use an age old cliché, change his life forever he slipped back into a well-worn persona, 'You know Jethro, this reminds me of a time back when we were in the middle of The Gurnius Affair…'

He was cut short by an ecstatic squeal and the suffocating weight of an Abby hug. Shifting her weight to one side, one by one he was embraced, clapped on the shoulder or back and even Palmer tentative grasped his offered hand.

One question remained unanswered.

'You would risk your careers, your lives to let me stay? Why would you do that?'

Tony put words to feelings for all. 'You're family. Isn't that reason enough?'

A chorus of 'Yeah', 'Definitely' and 'DiNozzo's right, surprisingly' bounced around for a while before Gibbs' drove home one of his own.

'Don't you want to stay?' Uncertainty and… fear, whispered through his usual gruffness.

'Of course, I do Jethro. Here I have a home, a family. All that is waiting for me elsewhere is misery and death. Besides,' his voice dropped deadly quiet, 'It is what Napoleon would have wanted.' Raising his voice again he continued. 'And now everything can go back to normal.' And he wacked DiNozzo Gibbs' style across the head before pulling Sammi after him into the lift with utterances of 'keeping the hounds at bay’.

'OW! Hey what was that for?' Tony called after him.

'For not knowing what an "Illya" is.' And he laughed until the doors closed with a ding.

'Hey Boss, I think he's more than a little unstable in the mental department – OW!'

'DiNozzo! Go home! That goes for all of you and if anyone breaths a word of this they'll find my boot so far up their ass…' he let the common threat hang as he watched them all scarper towards the lift, the stairs and any other ways to escape.

Gibbs was offering his hand to help Fornell up as his cell phone rang. 'Yeah, Gibbs. What explosion, Director? Nope, didn't hear it. Kuryakin? Sounds Russian to me sir. Nope, never heard of him. First thing tomorrow.' And with that he hung up.

'Lemme guess, something to do with files mysteriously going missing and lighter fluid? I'll see you later Jethro.' The FBI Agent limped his way out.

'Tobias. Door's –'

'Unlocked? When is it never?'

'And the spa –'

'Spare bed's made up. I know. Although, considering how often you fall asleep working on that damn boat I might just pinch yours.'

'Bed or boat?'

'You're a top notch bastard Gibbs – you know that?'

_Yep, _Gibbs laughed, _everything's back to normal. Well, our version of normal anyway._


End file.
